


What the Next Moment Brings

by agentofvalue



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5400101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentofvalue/pseuds/agentofvalue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy had a secret when Steve's plane went down and now she's just trying to hold onto control of her life. </p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://beautifulwhensarcastic.tumblr.com/post/134803740218">this post</a> on Tumblr. I might have got a bit carried away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Next Moment Brings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beautifulwhensarcastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulwhensarcastic/gifts).



> No beta so please pardon any mistakes. 
> 
> No connection to my 'Don't...' series.

“Steve?” Peggy said. 

She was alone in the control tower, pleading with every power there was in the universe for an answer. None came. It was silent but for a faint static and the sound of her own heartbeat. 

“Steve?” she repeated. 

Still, nothing. He wouldn’t answer. He was gone. Interrupted mid-sentence as they made plans to meet next Saturday. She should have told him. She shouldn’t have kept it a secret. They shouldn’t have been so reckless. But every day could have been the last, and they had jumped in with both feet. Every stolen minute, every glance, every touch might have been the last and now it was. And she hadn’t told him. 

"Steve?"

Every day might have been the last, but she hadn’t counted on being the one left behind. She hadn’t thought she would end up alone. Especially now because she wasn’t alone. How had it come to this? She had never even told him. 

Slowly, she reached out more time. The olive of her uniform dragged across the metal surface. With a single red-polished finger, she pressed the call button. The static stopped, interrupted by her signal that would never be received. The tears raced down her cheeks. 

“I’m carrying a child,” she said to the empty airwaves. “It’s yours and I don’t know what to do. I wish I had told you sooner.” 

****

The baby’s kicking was making it hard to concentrate. Peggy rubbed the spot with her left hand while trying to continue to write with the other. 

"Mummy needs a few more minutes," she whispered. "And if you would stop doing army drills on my insides that would be appreciated.” 

She pressed on the spot where a foot or a fist was pushing against her belly. She got a responding kick. The corners of her mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. She stayed hunched over the desk, though she’d stopped writing. 

If she looked busy, the commanding officer probably wouldn't interrupt. Her shift was over, but it was too early to go to the mess. Someone would take pity on her and invite her to sit with them for the meal. They all meant well and she was grateful, but she would rather be alone. Although, she wasn't ever really alone. She hadn't been for the last eight months. 

"Agent," said the CO tick, tick, ticking down the row. "You hit your time an hour ago." 

She'd been spotted. She leaned back in the tall, uncomfortable chairs that stood at all the workstations and kneaded her knuckles in the small of her back to loosen the knot. 

"I only wanted to finish one more thing," she said. 

"Your shift is over," he said though he had already passed by.

"If you insist," she said. 

She looked around the room. Ten others were working on codes nearby and none of them were from her shift. She was last to leave as usual. She straightened her station and stowed her work in the drawer marked M.C., Margaret Carter. That was her. Plus one. 

She shared her desk with two others. D.M. and R.S. each had their own drawers, but she barely knew them. By design, none of their shifts overlap. The war had been over for a month, but there was no storage of work. The bunker operated around the clock; the airfield above operated around the clock. She always seemed to draw the easy shifts despite her protests. 

There was nothing else to take with her. They weren’t allowed to bring anything with them to work. She was tempted to ask for permission to bring a pillow, but they'd already done too many favors for her. 

She got up from her seat and tugged on the bottom of her modified uniform jacket to straighten it before heading to the exit. It had been months since a regular jacket had fit. There was literally no way to hide it. She entered every room stomach first. Eight months pregnant and feeling like a dirigible. Still, she showed up to work. She pulled her weight and never complained. Well, she didn’t complain more than usual. 

Except here there weren't many people to complain to. She hadn’t made friends. She was perfectly friendly, but she avoided the social areas of the compound. Stark made appearances every few weeks. The handful of women stuck together. A few of them who were mothers already had been enormously helpful with her pregnancy. They had answered her questions and made her feel as if what she was going through was completely normal. She enjoyed their company when they could drag her out of her room. However, it wasn’t the kind of setting where she could talk and joke the way she was used to. 

It was far better than going home. Going home would be admitting the search was over. Going home would be facing her life as an unmarried mother with a broken heart. Somehow, Colonel Phillips had let her stay. When she couldn’t conceal her pregnancy anymore, she had been sent away from the front line but not all the way back to England. She was still one of the best code breakers in the unit and maybe that was why Phillips had kept her on. And maybe it was pity. She was out of the field and being managed for the moment, which was more than he could ever do on the front. Who knows what kind of trouble she’d get into at home? Or in America? 

There was that New York office she was interested in, but she was too close to delivery to make a move like that on her own. And she was certainly on her own. Maybe not entirely alone, but on her own none the less. 

She tried to feel joy at the impending arrival, but there was also a lot of dread. She didn’t know what she was going to do. Anytime she took a moment to come up with a plan, a panic—a feeling she wasn’t very unfamiliar with—took over. She was always calm, cool under pressure, but all her tools to cope evaporated when she thought about the future. She only saw as far as the end of the week at most. For now, working was the only thing that kept that feeling at bay. 

She knew the steps that had been taken to get to this point, but she didn’t understand how it had happened. Well, biologically she understood. One too many visits to the supply closet with Steve. One too many times giving into pleasure with Steve. What she struggled with was how she had let herself fall in love in the middle of a war. How she had found someone who understood her so precisely. How she had found a man that was perfect because of his flaws and how he had slipped away. That made is sound gentle. How he had died while she listened on the radio. 

She put her hands on either side of her belly as she walked up the passage to the open air. She hated the long, dimmed passage. There was a certain point where she couldn’t really see either end. Both were stretched far enough way that war room and the little entrance room were in shadow. Swinging doors that separated the three areas didn’t help. It felt all too metaphorical. 

She didn’t know when she had become afraid of the dark. She picked up her pace a little. 

She burst out of the hallway and waited impatiently for guards to check her over to make sure she hadn’t brought anything with her. Standard procedure. If anyone was going to smuggle something out, Peggy was in the perfect position. No one would notice if her belly got a little larger and the guards always seem afraid to touch her. Too many people seemed to avert their eyes when she was around. 

At last, she was outside, under the sky. The sun had already set and the warm day had given way to a chilly night. Fall was here. The Americans were planning a Thanksgiving celebration soon. As she moved along the worn path from the bunker to the house, she watched a plane swoop in, dipping fearfully close to the structures, before landing. The house likely had a real name, but everyone called it the house like it had a capital H. It was a big, old thing situated fifty yards from the entrance to the bunker. About half the personnel were staying there. Most of the rooms excluding an area for eating and a sitting area had been turned into barracks with as many beds as possible. Only the top brass and Peggy had their own rooms. Hers was the smallest room and the very top of the house, but it was the one luxury she had accepted due to her condition. Climbing the three flights of steps to the tiny space was getting harder, but it was out of the way and allowed her to be by herself. 

The mess was still full from the dinner rush, but she kept her head down and pretended to misinterpret a wave she got as a simple hello. She filled her plate and ascended the stairs to her room. 

She didn't know what it had been before the war effort had got a hold of the house. It was a small room with a peaked window. Maybe a little office or perhaps a servant’s room. It had been fitted with a twin bed that wasn't as hard as some she'd slept on, but she suspected she might have the best mattress in the place. A wardrobe in one corner and a desk with a rickety chair in the other. The desk was work space, dresser, and table. 

Peggy settled there and ate her dinner. The food was beginning to improve with the end of rations. She still didn't have much appetite; she ate for sustenance because she knew she had to. The baby and her fear didn't leave much room for food. 

She worried what that fear was doing to the baby. She was trying to be joyful. She wanted to hold the baby, to see their face, but she wasn't sure if that was a desire to meet her child or to not be pregnant anymore. She ached to know if the child would be like Steve. Would he have his father’s blond hair or blue eyes or his nose? Would she have his gentle and protective nature? 

A few tears blurred her vision. She blamed the pregnancy. One of the girls had told her about her sister, who had cried every time she saw a wee lamb, which was only a problem because she lived on a sheep farm. At the time, the story had made Peggy laugh, but now it just sounded like an excuse. She was sad and it wasn’t any more complicated than that. 

She put down her fork and put a hand to her belly. After a few minutes, the baby started doing somersaults. A small smile returned to her face. 

“I bet you will be just like your father,” she said. “I hope so at least. Maybe the best of each of us.” 

She supposed that was all a parent could hope for. 

Peggy was tired. It was early to get ready for bed, but, like meals, if she staggered her routine, she could avoid the others in the shared bathroom on the floor below. She had it to herself tonight as she wiped off her makeup and pinned up her hair. Then, she slipped into bed and fell asleep reading _The Tale of Peter Rabbit_ aloud. One of the girls had found it in town for her. It was pretty much the only thing she had for the baby. That thought often brought on a panic, but tonight she stayed with Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. 

The phone on her desk blared and dragged her from her sleep. It seemed an impossibly short amount of time could have passed since she had closed her eyes. It was too dark for the call for her next shift. 

“Bloody hell,” she said to the empty room as she turned on the light. “For Christ’s ever loving sake.” 

She hefted herself into a sitting position on the bed. The baby gave a few kicks as she changed position. She paused for a moment with her toes brushing the carpet. 

The phone rang again. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” she said as she, at last, got to her feet. 

“This better be bloody good,” she snapped, feeling sorry for the poor communication officer who had drawn the short straw. But not sorry enough to be civil. 

Waking Agent Carter was never a pleasant task. More than once she had caught the Howling Commandos taking bets on whether or not she’d hit whoever had to wake her for her watch. 

“Took you long enough,” came Stark’s voice through the receiver. 

She hadn’t spoken to him about a month. She had taken that to mean he had given up the search and didn’t have to heart to tell her it was over. He didn’t have to mollycoddle her; she knew Steve Rogers, Captain America, love of her life, father of her child, was dead. 

“Howard Stark, I am not moving very fast at the moment and, Christ, it’s four o’clock in the morning.” The last comment was as much to herself as it was to him. She’d seen the clock. 

“Are you sitting down? I wouldn’t be responsible for making an expectant mother topple over.” 

“What is it, Stark?” 

“Come down here. You’ll see.” 

“Down where? The bunker? Are you on the base?” But of course, he was. The phones were a secure network.

“Yes, with a surprise for you.” 

“You’re wasting my time.” 

“This is good. Worth it. I promise.” 

“Howard!” 

“There’s someone here waiting to see you. You and the kid.” 

She collapsed into the rickety desk chair. He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he meant. Could he? She took a few large gulps of air to keep the edges of her vision from darkened. She hugged her middle with her free hand. It wasn’t possible. Was it? 

It took her a few moments to realize he was calling her name. 

“Peggy! Peggy! Crap, did you pass out? I really did make a pregnant lady faint. I’m sending someone.” 

“No, I’m here,” she said. 

“Thank God for that.”

“If this is some sick joke, I’ll kill you. No more games, Stark. Tell what you mean.” 

“He’s here, Peg. I found him. I’m an ass, but even I know this wouldn’t be a funny joke. He’s here and he’s waiting.” 

“It’s been months. You don’t mean he’s alive?” 

“I do. Alive and well.” 

She wouldn’t believe him. She couldn’t let her heart have that hope. The search had looked promising before and when it turned into nothing she felt the loss again. The image of Steve holding their child died again. He died again. She couldn’t handle it many more times. 

“I know it sounds like wishful thinking, Peg,” Howard continued. “He was frozen. The serum saved him.” 

She couldn’t believe him, but she had to see for herself. 

“I’m coming. Now,” she said. 

“I’ve told security to let you through. This is top, top, _top_ secret. No one is supposed to know. I should’ve had a dozen court-martials by now and I’d definitely get one for this. I’m supposed to be taking him straight back to New York, but we had to stop somewhere and I made sure it was here where the internal phone calls aren’t monitored. He's been asking to speak to you.” 

“I’m coming,” she repeated. “Did you tell him anything about...” She couldn't pick the right words to finish her sentence.

“He knows you’re here and that I’m calling you against all orders. But I thought you should tell him the, um, rest.” 

“Thank you, Howard. I don’t know what I can do to repay—”

“Just get down here.” 

She dropped the receiver and looked wildly around the room. She wore only a pale green nightgown. It was all they had at the shop in town that would fit her and even then it was stretched tightly over her belly. Did she get change? Her hair was pinned up in curlers. Did she do her hair? Did she add her signature red lipstick? 

She was absolutely paralyzed. She had dreamed and wished and longed for this moment and now she didn’t know what to do. She was already close to tears. What do you do when as you ask for the impossible and get it? How do you react?

The baby gave her sharp kick. It brought her back to herself. Bloody Nora, it didn’t matter. Steve was alive and waiting for her. 

She reached up and started pulling the bobby pins out of her hair. When it was about half way done, she got up from the chair. Continuing to remove pins when her hands were free, she pulled on wooly socks and stuffed her feet in her heavy boots. She slipped on a black and red dressing gown over her shoulders and tied it above her bump. She was out the door and shaking the last of the pins out of her curls. 

She raced to the ground floor of the house, through the front door and out into the night. She almost stumbled in the darkness and forced herself to slow down. She was going to hurt herself or the baby. Her center of gravity had shifted so much and now the ground felt like it was sliding out from under her. 

Inside the bunker were the two guards waiting for a password. The entry code changed every day. Since the work went around the clock, the password was given to her in the morning by someone who had just finished their shift. She didn’t know what it would be and she couldn’t even hazard a guess. However, there was only one pregnant woman on the entire base. She didn’t know them, but they would recognize her. 

She approached and the two young men exchanged looks. She must look a sight, emerging from the night still in her pajamas. 

“Stark said you would let me through. I know he’s here. Let me pass,” she said with more confidence than she felt. 

They looked at one another again. Stark might have told them to let her through, but they weren’t so sure about the orders. 

“Please,” she said and put a hand on her belly. 

If she went back to London alone, she would have told a story about a secret marriage and the baby’s father dying in the fighting. But here, on the base control by the S.S.R., the rumors of her relationship with Steve had circulated well before she had started to show. No one would ask, but they could all guess who the father was. She played on that. The tears shining in her eyes despite her intentions probably helped too. 

They stepped aside. 

She descended down the long tunnel again. How had it only been a few hours since she was leaving for the night? The sound of her untied boots flapping against the concrete echoed. Tying her shoes was hard enough when she didn’t have somewhere to be. The dimmed passage stretched onward seemingly endless. 

She wasn’t rushing anymore. She was trying to take her time, trying to breathe. She had to keep reminding herself to breathe. 

At last, she pushed through the swinging door to the war room. 

Peggy saw him at once. He was at the large strategy table with his back to her. His blond head was bent and looking at something in front of him. He wasn’t in his Captain America uniform, but the olive of his army uniform. They would have matched if she had been wearing hers. 

She had to remember to breathe again. 

“Steve,” she said and then covered her lips with her fingertips. 

The last time she had said his name, she hadn’t expected a response. She had never expected to get a response again. 

He turned, looking at her over his shoulder. He was perfect. She hadn’t had time to form any expectations, but whatever she had thought, it wasn’t this. Months. He had been missing for months at the bottom of the ocean. He should be injured or thin or in a hospital bed at the very least. But he was fine, standing tall without a mark she could see. 

It wasn’t possible. 

For a moment, she pictured what he was seeing when he looked at her. Hair a mess, cheeks rosy from the chilly night and from her run, dressing gown, and then to her very pregnant stomach. 

Her heart beat rose and all she wanted to do was flee, to run and hide. Three options played out in her mind. One, which seemed least likely, was that this was real. Second, this was a dream. An undeniably sweet dream, but she would wake up without a partner or a father for her child and she would be heartbroken again. The final choice seemed the worst combination of the two. This was real, but there would be no happy ending. Steve wouldn’t believe her or wouldn’t want her now. 

She swallowed and exhaled a shaky breath. 

He looked back over his shoulder. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he hissed to the group including Stark who was watching. 

He sounded angry and Peggy shrank back. “ _Oh no, he doesn't want this_ ,” she thought. 

“Best coming from her,” said Stark. 

He gave Steve a little shove forward. Steve stumbled, tripping over nothing. He found his footing and moved closer until he almost within reach, but stopped short. 

“I guess I believe it now,” he said. 

“Believe what?” she asked, lowering her hand. 

“How much time has passed. I feel like I saw you yesterday and now…” He sighed. “Congratulations, I guess…” He trailed off again. 

And she realized what the problem was. He didn’t realize he was the father. He didn’t know she loved him. He didn’t think that his disappearance could have gutted her, nearly paralyze her. He thought she had just moved on. Found someone new. How could he think she would just move on? It was insulting. 

"It's your baby and I am rather offended you would think otherwise," she said with a flare of bravado. 

"Mine?" he said and his voice was more like a breath. 

She reached out, slowly, hesitantly to take his hand. He felt real in her grasp. She pressed his fingers against her belly. Probably because of all the commotion, the baby was active again. 

"Those are certainly Rogers’ kicks,” she said gently. “Our baby, Steve." 

He looked down at her with a smile and tears welled in his eyes too. A true smile like she hadn’t felt since he disappeared spread across her face. He was happy, even excited. It was more than she could have ever hoped for. He was alive and he was here. 

He bent down and lifted her up from under her arms, so she had to hug him around the neck as her toes dangled off the ground. She spun her around once and set her back down. He let go of her only to take her face in gently in both hands and kiss her. She kissed him back, long and deep and filled with relief. The nightmare was over. She had him back. She and the baby weren't alone anymore. He was alive and he was real. 

The group behind him cheered and they broke apart. They both laughed through a few tears. 

"I love you," she said. "I can't believe I get to say that you to. I never thought—" Her voice broke. 

He gathered her up in another hug and held her. Months of pain and worry melted away. She still didn’t have a plan, but she had Steve. She pressed against his chest and heard his heartbeat drumming. He was alive and he was real. 

"I love you too," he said. "I'm sorry. For being an idiot. For leaping. For missing our dance. For everything." 

"You're here now. None of that matters." 

He continued to hold her. She didn’t know for how long. She wanted to fall asleep right here. One thing she hadn’t been able to admit to herself was how tired she was. Physically and emotionally exhausted. Years of war and love and loss had taken their toll. That wasn’t gone, but she acknowledged the feeling. She didn’t have to carry so much weight; she had help. She felt safe in these arms.

“Cap,” said Stark. “We have to go.” 

He was standing a few paces away, looking genuinely distraught for interrupting. 

“Give me a few minutes to get my things,” Peggy said, untangling herself a little. She wasn’t ready to let go entirely. 

“Peg, you can’t come,” said Stark. “You shouldn’t be here now. No one is supposed to know.” 

“She’s coming,” said Steve. “I’m not leaving my pregnant wife behind.” 

“Wife?” Peggy blurted out in stock. 

Steve blushed furiously. “I—I mean, yeah, if you want to. I’m asking. But—but I’m here if you want to or not. Don’t give your answer now.” 

She stared up at him. The answer was yes. If she was going to marry anyone, it would be him. But she didn’t want to be an obligation. The words yes and no formed on her tongue. 

Stark interrupted again. “Slow down,” he said. “I’m glad you kids got together. We’ve been rooting for you. I’ve already broken every rule. She can’t come.” 

Steve was shaking his head. “I haven’t asked for anything. Not since the first day you stuck me in that pod, but I’m asking for this.” 

“Please, Howard,” Peggy said. “Call Phillips.” 

“I don’t think you should be traveling. You should stay here where you can look after yourself.” 

“Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t do,” she snapped. “I’m carrying a child—I'm not an invalid.” 

“You’re really going to try to stop her?” Steve said. 

Stark’s gaze flicked between the two of them. They stood united and he wasn’t going to be able to overpower them, physically or mentally. 

“Oh alright,” he said. “I guess I’ve never been one of the rules. Get your things. I’ll talk to your CO.” 

She let go Steve for the first time and place a kiss on Stark’s cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Hurry up,” he said, wiping at his cheek in an exaggerated way. 

She grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him with her. Stark started to protest, but she cut him off. “I am not letting him out of my sight. Deal with it.” 

“If he’s recognized,” called Stark after them, “it’s my head they’ll take off.” 

“You could do with a little shortening,” she shot back. 

Back up at the house, they crept up to her little room. Not everyone was asleep, so they drew as little attention as possible and didn’t speak again until they were safely behind the closed door. 

“Could you get the suitcase out from under the bed?” she asked. “I stuffed it under there when I could actually reach my toes.” 

He did as she asked as she started to pack up her toiletries from the desk. He dropped the case on the unmade bed and sat down next to it. He watched her and she felt his gaze. 

It was taking all her willpower not to turn around and tear every stitch of his clothing off his body. She wanted to feel every inch of him to make sure it was really real. That might be how she had ended up pregnant in the first place; they had just wanted to hold something solid in the middle of chaos. 

“Perhaps I should put on some proper clothes,” she said, adding the toiletries bag to the case. 

He started to get up but she motioned for him to stay. She opened the wardrobe and took the one dress that fit off the hanger. She undid her dressing gown and pulled off her nightgown. She was half hidden behind the wardrobe door, but she felt him watching. 

She stepped out from behind its protection, letting herself be in full view in just her undergarments. She had hardly seen herself this way. There was no full-length mirror in her room and she covered as much as she could in the shared bathroom. She had felt a tinge of shame under other’s gaze. With Steve, it was exciting, dangerous, erotic. He marveled. 

“You’re staring,” she said, fighting back a smile. 

“I can’t help it. It’s amazing. You’re amazing. It’s the most amazing thing I have ever seen.” 

She moved within his reach. He both his large hands over her stomach and then, with a little hesitation, put his cheek against it. She nearly quivered. 

“I don’t feel anything,” he said. 

“The baby doesn’t move all the time. If I eat sweets, he’ll wake up. There might be some chocolate in a drawer.” 

“Let the kid rest.” He didn’t let go. 

“Let me rest,” she said. “It’s nearly constant. A good strong kick, everyone says.” 

“That’s good, right?” 

“I guess so.” 

“So, it’s—he’s—she’s okay?” he said, fumbling over this words in his nervousness. “I was born really early and no one thought I was going to live and now with the serum. The baby’s not—I don’t know—different?” 

She clasped her hands behind his neck. “It’s been an easy pregnancy and I’m carrying a healthy child. Missing you has been the hardest part. Thinking you were gone and that the baby would never know their father. That you would only be a legend. That you would always be Captain America and never Steve.” She kissed his forehead. “Because that is who I fell in love with.” 

“I didn’t mean to put you through that.”

“I know,” she said. 

She let go. “I really must finish getting ready. I don’t want to test Stark’s patience.” 

She dressed with him still watching her and then filled the suitcase with the rest of her belongings. The Peter Rabbit book went right on the top. 

The phone rang and Peggy wondered again at how much had changed in half an hour since the last time it had happened. 

"Answer it. It'll be Stark.” She closed the suitcase. “Tell him we’re coming." 

He picked up and immediately Stark began yelling. Steve stood there a little stunned. Peggy plucked the phone out of his hand. 

“Yes, yes, all that. We’re coming,” she said and hung up. 

“Ready?” he asked. 

“Yes, I didn’t have much to begin with.” 

He grabbed the suitcase and she grabbed his hand. Their fingers laced together. 

Stark and a few guards were waiting outside the bunker. 

“We’re off schedule,” barked Stark. 

“Since when do you care?” Peggy asked casually. 

“Since the most important scientific discovery—”

“He’s not a discovery,” she said. She lunged forward, but Steve held onto her. 

She and Stark glared at each other. 

After the pause, he held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. This is sensitive and I’m sticking my neck way out for you. You should have heard Phillips.” 

Peggy gave in too. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just a lot of emotions. I—” she glanced at Steve, “—we owe you a lot.” 

Steve squeezed her hand. 

“You _do_ owe me a lot,” said Stark. “Don’t you forget it.” 

“We’ll name the baby after you,” Peggy said. 

Stark’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“I have two middle names. Do you want to hear them?” 

“No.” 

“Howard Anthony Walter Stark.” 

“I said no.” 

“C’mon, Anthony is a great name!” 

“Save it for your own child.” 

Stark laughed. “Me? A father? That’ll be the day.” 

“You never know,” said Steve. “I’m adjusting to the idea.” 

“You kids are the outlier. Like a damn fairytale.” 

Peggy and Steve grinned at each other. They hadn’t let go of each other yet. 

“It’s disgusting,” Stark added. 

“Where’s the plane?” Steve asked. 

“We’re going in style,” Stark said. Right on cue, one of his private jets rolled into view. “I wasn’t going to let the lady ride in the back of a cargo plane.” 

Peggy rolled her eyes, but this was definitely better. Nothing would have stopped her from coming, but riding in a plane with actual seats and a toilet would make the seven hours to New York much more comfortable. 

They boarded and Peggy and Steve curled up in a connected seat in the back. Stark and the guards respectfully stayed up front. She tucked her feet underneath her and leaned against him. She then wrapped an arm across her belly. He checked she was buckled and then slipped a hand under hers, waiting for the baby to kick again. 

“Have you thought about any names?” Steve said when they were settled. 

“I hadn’t really thought about anything. I had tomorrow figured out and maybe the next day at most. That’s all I could manage.” 

The plane had taken off before they spoke again. 

“Do you really want to marry me?” she said, sleepily. 

“Of course.” 

“Even if I wasn’t barring your child?” 

“Even if you weren’t having a baby. I was going to ask you when the war was over. And I guess that’s happened now anyway.” 

“Ask me properly.” 

“Margaret Carter, will you marry me?” 

“I will.” Moving as little as possible, she kissed him. 

It had been an hour. Maybe even less since the phone had rung and her world had turned completely upside down. Steve was back and he was alive. She was leaving Europe. She was going to get married. She would be a mother in two months. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. He leaned his head on top hers. 


End file.
